Integeres
by arc.black
Summary: Draco is broken; Harry is breaking, and the only two people who can save them hate each other with a passion. All are survivors of the war, all in need of healing - some more than others, so to speak. AU - Ron death. Rated T for adult themes and language


Dear Severus,

A/N: This story is a joint work between Goddess of Grammar and myself. It basically substitutes Ron's death for Severus', initiating a series of other changes, such as Albus Severus' name and the lack of existence of Hugo and the rest. I never liked that name, at any rate…

--

Dear Severus,

Thank you for your condolences, although you know as well as I that Asteria was to me what my mother was to my father.

The more pressing issue at hand is, of course, Scorpius. I would like you to keep an eye on him – he was as close to Asteria as I am to my mother…odd, how he's a bit of a proxy. I suppose that's why I'm worried about him; I know I would probably have done something drastic within the next few weeks.

The funeral will be on the seventeenth of July at two; if you can take the time out of your busy schedule to be here I would greatly appreciate the support.

Draco

--

Dear Draco,

Don't worry; I'm monitoring Scorpius carefully. His grades have dropped a little, but that's only to be expected.

I can make it to half the service. Unfortunately I have a meeting regarding curriculum reform, and as Head of House, I am required to attend.

On a side note, did you happen to receive an invitation to the Lupin-Weasley wedding?

Severus

--

Dear Severus,

Thanks for watching Scorpius. He wrote me on Wednesday, said he was feeling better.

Yes, I did get that in the mail. Are you going? Personally, I don't even know why I was invited.

Draco

PS – I hope your owl dies a slow, painful and excessively violent death. She pecked me so hard it's going to scar.

--

Dear Draco,

If you think you were invited for your sunshiny personality, you are gravely mistaken. I am going to be in attendance, and hope you are too. I can't stand being the lone sane being among all those nonsensical Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. If not to wish the happy couple a long-lived marriage, at least to keep me from spewing butterflies. Perhaps Scorpius can attend as well, to get his mind off things.

He's scraping by; of course you know that as a student you lied easily through your letters.

Severus

PS – my owl is perfectly normal, thank you. For wishing pain on Sicilia, I hope your wound becomes infected.

--

Dear Severus,

Thank you for attending the service today. It meant a lot to me. Scorpius is standing outside Asteria's tomb now, and I can't bring myself to pull him away.

He has been deeply affected by this. Is it enough to say that I am a complete and utter failure as a parent?

Draco

--

Draco –

Come to Hogwarts immediately.

Severus

--

Draco let the last slip of paper fall to the ground from between his fingers, letting the jagged edges caress the skin for a moment before fluttering down like a frantically dying butterfly. This last note had been sent to him a few hours ago, and now Draco was sitting and drinking morosely in his former teacher's quarters. He was alone in front of the fire, letting the flames flicker over his hands like shadows of light. It sparkled over the heavy glass bottle he held in his hands, firelight flashing off it when he swung it to his mouth, letting a little of the amber liquid dribble down his chin in his uncharacteristic carelessness. He wiped it away with his sleeve, ignoring that the embroidered forest green silk would most probably stain.

The alcohol burned, but it didn't burn enough. So many questions rushed through his mind, and for the first time since that terrible ambiguous moment when he had to decide to kill Dumbledore or not, he felt vulnerable, lost and confused. For the first time in a long time, many of the questions kicking up a tempest in his mind could not be answered. Why did Scorpius do this? Why couldn't he save Asteria? What did Asteria have, anyway? What was taking Severus so long? What about Madam Pomfrey? Could she not fix Scorpius? What had Scorpius done, exactly?

Draco took another deep swig, the liquid making an audible slosh against his lips. He felt terrible. Not only had he not washed in twenty-four hours (his scalp was feeling greasy), nor slept, but also he was emotionally drained. Asteria had been a good wife and a wonderful mother, but from the start, Draco had known that she wasn't the one. Still. She had been a good friend, more than you could usually hope for in an arranged marriage. Besides, it's not like he believed in all that "true love" nonsense. He was just as likely to find love with Asteria as the next person. It was just a matter of looking, and Draco hadn't exactly been interested in looking. Being married at the traditional age of twenty-one, he was still only a child really, now that he reflected on it. Some more Firewhiskey was knocked back, and Draco screwed his eyes shut against the feeling of putrid fire smouldering his oesophagus away. The bottle was half-emptied in the space of fifteen minutes.

Feeling pleasantly and intrepidly buzzed, Draco set about feeling sorry for himself. "Why me?" he said aloud, and found that his tongue and lips were working on slow motion and he couldn't quite form the words right; it was like trying to fasten your robes with Keeper's gloves on. "Why Scorpius? He's so…sensitive. God. I hope he's OK." He frowned at the bottle and tried to read it. The curly lettering was a little fuzzy. "Oy – no, that's a 'g'…Ogden's…Old…Firay? No, fire! Fire. Wuh-hiskey. Maybe I need glasses." He contemplated the idea for a while. "No, I'd just look like Potty. Potty-wotty!" Giggling madly, he didn't notice the dark shadow behind him until it deftly plucked the bottle from his unresisting hand.

"Obviously, inebriation results in your regression to eleven-year-old maturity," Severus said smoothly.

"Aw, Sev'rus…" whined Draco. "You're no…fun."

Severus said nothing, but whipped his wand out from his sleeve and drew a series of complex movements around Draco's head. The lines shimmered blue, vanishing when he whispered "Finite Incantatem."

Draco suddenly stood up, but quickly sat down again. "My fucking head," he mumbled from within his robes. "My fucking head."

"Watch your language, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said lightly. "Now, I suggest you listen to me, as in about five minutes you will be overtaken by an urgent need to relieve yourself." Draco shook his head and delved further into his robes, completely covering his white-blond head with the sleeves. His hands looked like smooth cream spiders, plastered about his upper arms and he groaned softly. "Go to the restroom before you make a mess of my carpet, then go see your son. He deserves better than this."

There was much conviction and suppressed fury in Severus' words, and he even turned away and sat at his desk with contempt. "Go, Draco. You know where it is."

Draco got up gingerly, and shuffled down the corridor, the firelight still trembling on his back as he trudged to the bathroom, Severus' eyes boring holes in the back of his neck.

--


End file.
